


Dragon’s Treasure -Teaser-

by TheHuggamugCafe



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Carmen and William are human, Dragon!Arsène, F/M, Gentleman thief!Arsène, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Partners in Crime, Reader-Insert, noblewoman!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 11:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18314336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe
Summary: He was not one for lying, not if he could help it.He would admit that he was very much like a greedy dragon, eagerly collecting only the rarest, sought-after jewels and treasures.However, out of all of the worldly possessions, there is one treasure that stands as the most beautiful.You.





	Dragon’s Treasure -Teaser-

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShirleyJackson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirleyJackson/gifts), [Novacorgi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novacorgi/gifts), [DragonsInkwell (Lafrenze)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafrenze/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Heart Ablaze](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14990009) by [freebird97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freebird97/pseuds/freebird97). 



> Well, after _weeks_ of Saint Germain’s open eyes quaking me senseless, I _finally_ picked up and played Code: Realize for a bit.
> 
> I didn’t get far, so I may pick it up again. 
> 
> In the meantime, here you are, my dear customers. I present to you noblewoman!Reader and gentleman thief!dragon!Arsène.
> 
> A special shout-out goes to my marvellous friend, Kai, for planting this seed in my head late last year. So thank you, Kai. You’re amazing!
> 
> Translation is below for two certain parts:
> 
> “Mon Trésor” means “my Treasure.”
> 
> “Ma moitié” means “my other half”/“my better half.”

“Where did they go?!”

“I don’t know! Search that way!”

“Leave no room unchecked!”

Just outside the barrier of a wooden door, the angry shouts of men echoed as armour-clad feet dashed down the corridor, clanking before suddenly coming to a halt just outside a study room.

If there were _any_ interlopers present within the grand castle, their breathing would have hitched as an inhale was taken in.

If any _outsiders_ were sneaking around the marvellous structure, lorded over by a _very_ prestigious man with pockets that ran as deep as his greed did, the rate of their hearts would have kicked up a few beats.

If there _were_ any intruders seeking to steal a treasure here and there, hoping to slip a bag of gold coins into their pockets, a cold sweat would have surely broken out across their foreheads, eyes wide and alert, staring pointedly at the only entrance and exit the study room had.

Finally, at _last_ , there was a telltale creak as the study room’s door was opened, the sound of its hinges quietly wailing in protest was followed up by the clanking of armour.

The guard swept a slow, thorough glare around the study room. Lit torches cast a dim reddish orange illumination on the stone wall on the right-hand and left-hand side of the study room’s entrance, on the guard’s armour, on the sword and shield he gripped in ironclad gloves. A few lit candles glowed on a grand mahogany table, beads of melting wax sliding down the candlestick as the tiny flickers of fire cast their small lights over a small stack of thick, leather-bound tomes here and there. Cracks and pops came from a fireplace, casting a flicker of reddish orange on the high-quality carpet.

The fireplace, the candles, and the lit torches were the only sources of light present in the spacious room, and no matter where the guard’s eyes landed, he saw only tiny flickering flames, or reddish orange embers popping from the crackling fire pit.

Unbeknownst to him, a stare was honed in on him as he edged closer to a particular set of towering bookshelves. A leather-covered hand idly trailed to the hilt of a knife sheathed in its leather holster, a decidedly and deadly weapon that was looped through the slits in their trousers, hooked to their belt. The intruder’s free hand—the trespasser was a _he_ , a _male_ —had long since been raised, gently pressing a gloved palm to the mouth of a woman; his leather-covered fingers softly cupped the female’s cheeks, ensuring that no sound left her.

He couldn’t see it, he couldn’t feel it, but he could _sense_ the woman’s eyes pointed in the direction of the guard’s footsteps, frozen in a mixture of anticipation and silent trepidation. All five of her senses were on high alert, listening attentively.

He would rather _not_ harm anybody, even if that someone happened to be a cad employed by a horrible tyrant, and a malevolent ruler with a gaudy crown sitting atop his head at that, but…

He would much prefer that than to having any harm come to someone whom he loved dearly; someone whose life he treasured more than he loved to live. That someone was his partner: _you_.

You held your breath, eyes staring out from the slits in your mask, as wide as dinner plates, and doing your best not to do anything that might alert the guard to you or your partner’s presence. The telltale clanks of the guard’s armour was getting to you, and you feared that he might even hear the hard pounding of your heart beating in your breastbone, fluttering as wildly as a songbird’s wings.

Finally, at last, you and Arsène heard it. The annoyed grunt of the lone patrol member.

“…Damn. No reward for catching renegades for me tonight.”

Soon, the groaning creak of the door and the heavy noise of armour shifting as the guard moved grew distant, his irritated mutters eventually tapering off completely, and yet…

Arsène waited a few minutes before his fingers strayed from the hilt of his sheathed knife, before he removed his hand away from your mouth, and you took the opportunity to take in and release air in slow, steady pockets. Soon, your heart returned to a steady rate, but that didn’t stop you from listening.

Even if that guard had left, the others were no doubt ordered to search the castle high and low for you, for Arsène, for your dear friends, William and Carmen, but… They were fine; you were certain of that.

You couldn’t help but pity the guards who managed to corner them, threatening them with arrest, imprisonment, or even the death penalty.

A soft kiss broke you from your musings, gentle but _persistent_ in nature. You blinked, and soon, you were face-to-face with the masked visage of the gentleman thief himself.

 _Your_ gentleman thief, Arsène Lupin.

“…Do not fret, _mon Trésor_.”

That was what Arsène whispered to you, pressing a few more kisses to your lips before leaning away.

You thought he was finished, but he continued to pepper your face with kisses as he muttered kindhearted assurances to you.

“William and Carmen will be alright… I am sure that they’re already waiting for us at the agreed spot.”

You couldn’t do anything but nod, smiling softly as you moved—or rather, you _tried_ to move, but the moment you shifted, Arsène shot out a hand, pressing his gloved fingers, his leather-covered palm to the stone wall.

You couldn’t stop the hitched breath that left you, whispering past your lips in the form of a short little gasp.

“…Arsène?”

“F-Forgive me, _ma moitié_ , but I… I… I am feeling rather…”

Arsène paused and bowed his head, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. He fell silent, and you blinked slowly, owlishly. His mouth opened as he raised his head, breathing a hot exhale into your face while leaning forward, resting his forehead on yours.

A second quiet gasp left your lips, this one was a bit sharper than the one preceding it. Your teeth worried the flesh of your bottom lip as you leaned back, unconsciously retreating into the stone wall you were up against. Your lace-covered palms criss-crossed over another, your wide eyes stared as _colours_ began to possess your beloved thief’s eyes.

_William will surely have my head for this stunt._

The infamous pirate captain would _love_ nothing more than to have the well-known burglar’s head on a silver platter, delivered to him personally by his right-hand man for his tardiness, and that was if he was feeling _generous_.

Arsène would be lucky to get away with a show of mercy—one that quickly ended in him sporting a hole between his eyes. At the very least, the marauder would _threaten_ to add a third eye _and_ several holes to the gentleman thief’s body.

As gruff around the edges as he was, William Kidd certainly did have quite the soft spot for you; he treated you more like a little sister than a fellow partner in crime.

Arsène had been present when during a particularly foul mood, a mood that was the result of an assured haul that hadn’t been _as_ bountiful as the blond, brown-eyed pirate had hoped, the corsair had promised to throw some of his best mates overboard, to be fodder for the sharks for _“eyein’ Lupin’s land-lovin’ lass like a piece o’ meat.”_

And yet… And yet…

Arsène recalled the sea rover’s brown glare fixing on him as the two men lounged in the captain’s barracks below deck, keeping a pair of eagle eyes on you as one of the sea captain’s trusted mates indulged you in a game of poker at a table off to the left.

_“You have a fine lass, Lupin. Wish the lads could keep their eyes off her, but you know how it is. They have the salt of the sea in their veins, but the moment they see a woman, well…”_

Arsène simply chuckled, assuring his friend that it was fine. He didn’t get jealous _too_ easily, and so long as the men didn’t get _too_ interested in you, he would have no issues. William sighed, gulping down ale before staring at the burglar sitting across from him, suddenly looking quite serious.

_“That heist on the horizon… Your lady’s coming along? You’d better have both eyes on her—unless you’d like to still have them, that is.”_

The click of the flintlock pistol’s hammer being toyed with didn’t go unnoticed by Arsène Lupin.

_Carmen may decide that my eyes would make a lovely addition to her necklace._

The dark-haired, blue-eyed gypsy was just as protective of you as her friends were, if not more so.

To Carmen, you were a gentle and pure soul. She had called you _“a tiny light struggling to survive in a dark world,”_ and she spared no expense to lead any men who sought you out—to have you as their own, no matter the cost—straight to their doom with a disarming smile as she batted her eyelashes, purring sweet and meaningless nothings to your would-be suitors.

Arsène knew all too well what sort of woman she actually was beneath her curvaceous body covered in a long, eye-catching red and black dress, her cerulean blue eyes that shone like crystalline jewels, her dark hair that was kept in bouncing curls, and behind the pleasing smile that curled her lips. He knew that underneath the façade of a helpless woman lurked someone who plotted for weeks, scheming the complete and utter _ruin_ of her targets in advance.

Carmen would discard her wooers once she grew tired of them, tossing them aside as though they were nothing more than broken toys, husks of lively men that no longer interested or amused her.

The gentleman thief had assured the gypsy that she didn’t have to go out of her way to woo men, and all to ensure that his dear rose would be safe when he wasn’t present to be certain of your well-being. His words resulted in nothing but a simpering croon from the dark-haired, blue-eyed opera dancer, staring up at him through thick eyelashes, which she batted playfully.

_“Goodness. You think so lowly of this poor, defenseless woman. What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t shield your darling from the ill wills of lecherous men, my dear Lupin?”_

Arsène could still recall how the gypsy had chuckled, her shimmering blue irises glinting maliciously as she smiled a bit _too_ pleasantly.

Her warning returned to haunt him, echoing in his mind as she cooed softly to the notorious robber, and yet despite her smile, her malevolent stare dug into him like a knife; it was the kind of look that only served to bolster the words she uttered. Truly, she looked _and_ sounded very much like the femme fatale she embodied, hissing sugarcoated words that were reminiscent of poison-laced candy.

 _“Should your sweetheart not be with you when you return… Or should I learn she has been captured by such uncouth individuals… I will see to it that you are dealt with accordingly. You have such marvellous eyes, my friend… It would be_ quite _a_ shame _to have to pluck them out, and have them adorn my necklace…”_

Arsène was _supposed_ to meet with his partners—and with you in tow—at the agreed rendezvous point, but certain _unforeseen circumstances_ had resulted in him seeking shelter in the closest room that was available to him.

Minutes earlier, the shouts of “Halt!” and “Stop, intruders!” from the guards resulted in nothing but a low chuckle from the thief garbed in red and black, leading you by the hand. Your heels clicked as the two of you ran the length of the corridor, the sharp clicks giving away to gentle thumps as he led you over carpet, taking a sharp left.

You stumbled, but that only resulted in Arsène scooping you into his arms, running while carrying you bridal-style. The guards were fast, but Arsène was quicker on his feet than they were. Their angry shouts only resulted in one last haunting laugh that left the gentleman thief, lips curled to a smirk as he rounded a corner, quickly ducking into a study room, the door left ajar. He paused only to set you down, shut the door with a quiet click, and led you by the hand to a few towering bookshelves.

The same bookshelves that you and he hid behind as the guards’ footsteps inched closer and closer to the study room, and all but one passed by.

Beads of sweat trailed down the masked thief’s forehead, which currently rested on yours, eyes open wide and wild as his warm obsidian irises were lost to a hue of golden red. The molten gold edged his eyes with a soft tint, slowly taking on a strange, but captivating hue as red and gold intertwined. The shades seemed to merge before, finally, red grew more dominant as it drew near to his pupils, which had taken on the appearance of slits.

Shivers shook Arsène’s clothed shoulders, but you could see a noticeable tension dominating his body. It was faint, but present in how rigid, how straight as a board his posture was; you saw it in how he took in and released air in slow, deep breaths that warmed your cheeks as hot air hit your skin. The reddish orange flicker of a nearby torch made the sweat on his forehead, the perspiration dripping down his cheeks shine, and the shadows where you and he stood only made the molten gold and crimson colours that possessed his irises look more prominent.

Silence reigned in the study room. Silence that was broken either by the crackle, the popping of the fireplace, your slow and uncertain breaths, or Arsène’s deep and uneven gasps. The gloves that adorned your hands grew damp as you felt moist beads trickling down your bare fingers, wet warmth drenching your palms. The lace fabric of the gloves steadily grew more and more soggy as the sudden restlessness that plagued you quietly grew, slowly but surely increasing as the seconds passed you and Arsène by.

By the time you willed yourself to speak, perspiration had broken out across your forehead, resulting in strands of hair to stick to your sweating, wide-eyed visage as your eyes stared out from behind the slits of the mask that adorned your face. You refused to look away from your lover’s face, silently watching him as his perspiring forehead remained pressed to yours, his eyes locked with yours, and the hand that was pressed to the stone wall you were up against remained where it was.

_This man is Arsène… Is he not?_

_Those eyes… They have me captive. I feel so powerless beneath that stare of his._

_He_ is _Arsène Lupin; he_ is _my darling gentleman thief. Of that I am sure._

“Arsène?”

Your voice broke the tense silence, soft, trembling noticeably; there was a clear note of uncertainty edging the mousy call of your beloved’s name.

For a moment, and only a moment, your sweetheart didn’t reply.

He remained where he was, eyes locked with yours, sweaty forehead still pressed to yours as he breathed in and out, deeply, greedily, taking in air as though each breath would be his final.

Finally, _finally_ , after what felt like forever, he replied.

“Mm?”

It was more of a grunt as opposed to an actual response that he voiced, but nevertheless, you felt your lips purse as slowly, oh so slowly, your gloved palm drifted away from the lace-covered knuckles. Doubt pricked you as you raised a hand, gently cupping a damp cheek in the palm of your hand.

Arsène was quick to lean into it, and you heard—no, _felt_ —what sounded like a low, crooning purr tickling the back of his throat, rumbling deep in his chest.

It was absurd, but in that moment, your mind conjured the image of a feline that had just been stroked by its owner.

“Arsène, my love…”

You paused, debating on how best to say what you wanted to say. You were concerned, _beyond_ worried for your other half.

_Is he ill?_

The thought was dismissed no sooner had it crossed your mind, resulting in a barely-there shake of your head.

_No, that’s not it._

_Arsène was fine earlier on in the day._

_Whatever is amiss, it came on suddenly._

Again, shivers possessed Arsène’s clothed shoulders as he leaned forward, pressing himself closer to you. The male’s dark hair tickled your bare shoulders, your neck as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your throat, pausing only to inhale your scent.

“Arsène, you are… You are unwell. C-Come.”

You paused, but only to mentally flinch at the soft, noticeable stutter that laced your voice as you talked.

“Let us go. The guards will regroup soon, and we shouldn’t risk lurking when our business is done.”

You shuffled your feet, moving to put some distance between you and the gentleman thief before you, but the _moment_ your foot shifted, the _moment_ the heel of your shoe scuffed over the cold stone floor, a noise stopped you.

Actually, a noise and sudden movement made you freeze.

The movement was Arsène’s free arm shooting out, halting you from taking a single step away from him, effectively trapping you. Between the clothed body of your darling in front of you, and the cold stone wall behind you, there was nowhere for you to go. The noise was a low growl that hummed deeply in the gentleman’s chest, a soft snarl that tickled the back of his throat as he all but hissed to you.

“Stay. Where. You. Are.”


End file.
